


You’re taking the high road, picking your battles, just like the day I found you

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Background Case, Case Fic, Coda, Detective Castiel, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Kansas, M/M, Oklahoma, Post-Break-Up, Post-Case, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Post-Fight, Private Investigator Castiel, wyoming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The next case that crops up that week is in Michigan.  A werewolf gone crazy.  The brothers pack up and head out of the bunker as soon as they learn about it.Being too late to solve a case is one thing.But being too late to solve two cases in a row?Now that’s not an accident.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517966
Comments: 3
Kudos: 103





	You’re taking the high road, picking your battles, just like the day I found you

**Author's Note:**

> Since I’m still working on an episode 4 coda, have another angsty episode 3 coda! 
> 
> The title was taken from the song “Like Sugar” by Matchbox Twenty.

When Sam’s supernatural database picks up a case in Oklahoma, Dean suggests they get back out there.

(They had technically just returned, but Dean’s fight with Cas was fresh in his mind. He had to get out of the bunker right away.)

Sam wants to protest, ask where Cas had gone, but the harshness in Dean’s eyes meant that he would get nowhere by asking questions. Sam sits in the passenger’s seat and says nothing, opening his laptop. He studies the particulars of the case, Dean happily obliging to the silence.

They cross state lines by the time Sam finishes learning all he can about the murders. Sam makes to open his mouth as they pass the ‘Welcome to Oklahoma’ sign at sunset.

“Looks like vetala,” Sam says after a throat clear. “Haven’t seen those in a while, huh?”

Dean hums over the roar of Baby’s engine, infinitely glad for the background noise. 

(If he didn’t have the background noise, his mind would start to echo Cas’s words before he left.)

“Three murders so far,” Sam summarizes, “all in the past three nights. Must be a pack that’s gorging, right?”

Dean keeps his eyes firmly planted on the road behind the windshield. “Mhm.”

‘You can’t even look at me.’

A flash of Cas’s hurt expression swims behind Dean’s eyes. He blinks so the image fades.

“How many, do you think?” Sam asks. “Not sure if we have enough stakes.”

“Didn’t you just load ‘em up last week?” Dean asks lazily.

“Might not be enough for a nest,” Sam replies, “that’s all I’m saying.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Dean says gruffly. “We always do.”

Sam elapses into silence after that, his gaze lingering on Dean for a moment. Dean thinks he’ll stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. Sam turns sharply away instead, looking out the window as the sunlight recedes.

When they get there, the murder scene is already cleaned up.

Not only that, but the case has been solved.

“Sorry to bring you down here from Quantico for nothin’,” a police officer says. “A private eye arrived this morning and found the murderers. A bunch of teenage hooligans luring people into the woods. They’ve been taken out of state.”

Dean and Sam share a look. The explanation is surely the fishiest they had heard in a long while.

The brothers walk back to the Impala. Dean drives with no direction in mind.

Sam unlocks his smartphone and says, “I’m going to call around. See if any hunters got here first that we don’t know about.”

Dean nods, refusing to let his mind wander beyond a single statement.

‘I think it’s time for me to move on.’

————

When Sam cannot find a hunter who took the job, Dean is quick to discount his worries.

“Probably just someone we don’t know,” Dean says dismissively. “There’s plenty of hunters around the country we don’t know.”

Sam gives him that long look again, the same one he gave Dean days earlier. Like he wanted to ask something, but decided he didn’t want to deal with Dean’s usual bullshit.

(Dean knew all about his own bullshit.)

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

The next case that crops up that week is in Michigan. A werewolf gone crazy. The brothers pack up and head out of the bunker as soon as they learn about it.

Being too late to solve a case is one thing.

But being too late to solve two cases in a row?

Now that’s not an accident.

“A freelance detective,” the female sheriff says in a drawl, “who was very knowledgeable and,” she blushes, “handsome, by the way,” they overhear a secretary giggle near the station entrance, “looked at our minuscule information and knew exactly where to start searching. The perp was a loner outside of town. Even I didn’t know about his cabin out there.” She sighs, as if feeling her personal failure acutely. “Anywho, the guy was taken away by a squad car. It’s out of our jurisdiction.” She glances at their FBI badges. “Maybe some of your guys got him and you two just don’t know it yet.”

Sam waits until Dean drives away to say, “this is a problem. We need to find out who this guy is.”

‘You two have each other, but me?’

Dean nearly crashes into a tree dangling too close to the parking lot exit. 

His careening mind and jerking arms and quaking hands on the wheel recover without Sam noticing a thing.

————

The third case in Wyoming leaves behind more of a mess than it began with.

While the case itself was solved, another case filled its place.

The motel room was a new crime scene that happened the night before Dean and Sam arrived. The brothers meant to stay at the very same motel, but being greeted with yellow tape and a heavy police presence certainly wasn’t how they expected to spend the morning after a day of driving.

“The signs point to an animal attack,” the police captain says, “but there’s no real explanation for it. Looks like ya came at the right time.”

The investigators that wipe fingerprints and bag evidence eye Dean and Sam. The brothers brush by the police captain and enter the room.

Tracks of blood as messy as paint splatters cover the floor, the single bed, and the small table. There is no rhyme or reason to the marks, and displaced broken objects were scattered about the wooden floor and thrown on the peeling wallpaper. Dean and Sam had to walk on a strange path to simply cross three steps to the bed. Evidence is logged and taped off absolutely everywhere.

The centerpiece of the action is a single black feather matted in a puddle of soupy crimson blood near the broken window.

Dean got as close as he could without tainting evidence. He looks down at the single feather, examining its thin length.

Dean’s voice is raw and hoarse as he says, “my partner and I need the room for a moment.”

The investigators do not acknowledge his tone and leave, clearly expecting the order. The captain closes the door behind the brothers.

Forgetting that Sam is there, Dean shuts his eyes to prevent them from watering. He doesn’t feel his knees hit the floor until he is on the ground. 

He opens his eyes, the feather and pool of blood encompassing his vision. 

‘What’s the point of staying if you’re going to hate me?’

Dean’s eyes crinkle, and a tear slips down his crow’s feet. His lip wobbles, and his voice becomes a broken whisper.

“Cas.”

‘I think it’s time for me to move on.’

(A tan trench coat retreats, ascending the bunker stairs for the last time. Dean looks at the floor so he doesn’t see that figure leave him forever. The metal door closing resounds in his ears for hours to come. Days to come. Weeks to come.)

Dean did this. It was all his fault. Cas could be dead, and it was all his fault.

Tears stream down his cheeks, and Dean covers his mouth with his hands. He sniffles a single time, water coating his fingers as he squeezes his eyes shut again. He stifles his sobs as much as he can.

The sound of a man crouching beside him has Dean stilling. Sam is here. 

Sam is here, and he is watching his big brother cry.

“Dean,” Sam whispers softly. “Why did you say Cas’s name?”

Dean sniffles again, wiping his eyes with the messiness and viciousness of a child. “I fucked up, Sammy.” He shakes his head, opening his eyes, unable to look away from the ashen feather. His tone turns bitter and harshly critical. “No surprise there, right?”

“Dean,” Sam’s eyes are on him, “what are you talking about? What happened between you and Cas?”

Crimson congeals with Cas’s feather, the thin spidery lines sinking into the puddle. A rise of nausea overtakes Dean’s throat, but he swallows before he dry heaves.

(He has never felt so sick in his life.)

Dean halts his shallow breaths, inhaling through his nose. The exhale is slow and deep, his head turning sharply to Sam.

“I said all the wrong things. Cas is done with me.” Dean says with determination, “we need to get him back, no matter what the cost. Okay?”

Sam narrows his eyes, then nods in agreement after studying Dean for a few beats. “Okay.”

————

It is perfect timing that the following case stays within Kansas state lines.

(Not good timing for the victims, but Dean digresses.)

Dean and Sam are there after two back-to-back disappearances. The case is only a few towns over from Lebanon.

After examining both crime scenes, they gather at the local police station, and an angel wearing a trench coat walks inside.

The bustling station blurs all around Dean, ambient sound drowning into nothingness.

Dean crosses the room in a single heartbeat. Like a starving man, he slurps up the tangible image a foot away from him.

Cas looks the same as always, but something is playing a trick on Dean’s eyes. Is it the overhead lights? Is that why Cas looks so beautiful?

But it’s not just beauty. It’s the crow’s feet emerging by Cas’s own eyes. It’s an indicator that Cas has had good days, happy days, better days. He has been smiling and laughing more.

And his eyes. So blue. More blue than before. They used to contain traces of gray, showing well-worn weariness better than facial wrinkles ever could. Now, Cas’s eyes sparkled, as clear as freshwater on a gorgeous summer day.

And the way he walks. He is sure of himself. He is confident. He has swagger.

(Dean fights the urge to lick his lips.)

Cas is in a far better place than he was after their fight. His time away did wonders for him. 

(Not to mention his complexion.)

“Cas,” Dean breathes, gaze roving across the angel he hardly recognizes. “How are you?”

Cas’s gaze hardens, and it gives Dean whiplash. “Fine,” he replies curtly.

Dean swallows thickly, recovering from the deep cut. “When I saw what happened in Wyoming,” a surge of water fills his eyelids at the memory, “I thought that maybe…”

“That I would be dead?” Cas takes Dean’s concern the wrong way, scoffing haughtily in his face. “I’m sure you’d have liked that.”

Dean steps back as if slapped. “No! No, Cas!” His eyes glisten. “That’s not what I thought. Not even for a second.”

Cas blinks, studying the truth of the statement in Dean’s expression. He does not speak, and that emboldens Dean.

“Cas,” he says, “I can’t express to you how sorry I am. I’m not the same without you. I have no idea why I picked a fight. I’m the biggest asshole in the world.”

Dean is studied critically by Cas for a moment.

“No,” Cas says, “not the biggest asshole. I’ve met a few assholes that were bigger.”

Dean’s lips part, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stares at Cas incredulously, before a chuckle bubbles from his mouth.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but can we please...work this case together?”

Cas is silent, regarding Dean with a mixture of curiosity and confidence.

“I suppose,” Cas decides, “you can work this case with me.”

The pronoun switches are emphasized in Dean’s mind, and he smiles.

“Okay, Cas,” Dean’s smile widens, “okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
